


Date My Brother Please

by xRYDERx



Series: Brothers In Arms [1]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Sburb Session, Awkward Dirk, Awkward Sexual Situations, Brotherly feels, Dave and John shennanigans, Dom?Jake, F/F, I keep writing unrequited J/J but I love Jane wtf, M/M, Sub!Dirk, Too many tags?, What's too much?, all the guys are kinda assholes, just awkwardness all around
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-12
Updated: 2013-08-14
Packaged: 2017-12-19 07:29:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/881077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xRYDERx/pseuds/xRYDERx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wherein Dave realizes his brother has no life and tries to fix it because Dirk has been taking care of him his whole life.. Meanwhile, Dirk has already found his target and his brother is acting like a little shit and girls keep ogling his junk. </p><p>--</p><p>"So I think we should totally check out some fine, attractive, age-appropriate and not currently crushing on a fella already, lass for your brother." John nods. Apparently this is his conclusion.</p><p>"No." </p><p>"Yes, Dave. So much yes. We're adorable and we can go around saying stuff like, date my brother please, and the ladies will totes dig it."</p><p>"Until they meet him and find out just how much of a huge nerdy asshole he is. And how socially inept he is and how he can ramble for days about public tent pitching," you say. You shut your computer because obviously John is not going to listen to reason.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. ==> Dave Feel Guilty

Your name is Dave Strider and you feel guilty as all hell.

  
  
You've been watching your older brother work in the garage for about ten minutes now; restoring an old car for a geezer you can only assume is as equally ancient. He's working diligently for once and as far as you can tell he's almost done. He has headphones on and you can hear the music from where you stand in the doorway leading into the house. Its one of your mixes. His head bobbing along with the down beats and a smile is in place of his usual smug, shit eating grin, it makes you grin a little as well. Bro doesn't listen to anything he doesn't like, even if it hurts someone's feelings, so it's a pretty big deal. To you anyway.

  
  
It had been career day at school -fucking gag- and there’d been a lot on your mind since then. Bro hadn’t come, which was perfectly okay with you. He’s always busy with one project or another and he’d asked if you wanted him there. You really didn’t mind because fuck if you were about to share your brother with those douches. What? You’re pretty damn territorial when it comes to your shit. And yes, bro is a shit. A large pile of shit on toast.

  
  
You're so deep in your wacked out thoughts that you jump when you hear Dirk's voice calling you.

  
  
"You alright, little man?" he asks.

  
  
His orange headphones, now draped around his neck, still play loudly. The quick pace matches the beating of your heart against your chest.

  
  
"Oh. Yeah. Sorry, Bro," you say with a wavering voice.  "S'cool."

  
  
He removes his work goggles to examine you, his orange eyes bright under the overhead lights. "You sure? You seem kinda distracted."  


"Pfft what? Me? Distracted?" You scoff. Bro just kinda smirks. "Strider's don't get distra-"  


"Hi Dave!"  


"Augh! What the hell!"   


Your entire body flinches in surprise. Whipping your head around you find John with a huge grin plastered to his stupid face. Damn, he got you again. Fuuuuuck. And right in front of Bro too.  


"Damnit, Egbert! I swear I'm gonna-"  


"What? You gonna get me Dave? But if you do that whose gonna work with you on the project? I am literally the only person you like to talk to," John smiles innocently. He shoves his hands in his stupid blue hoodie. Fuck Egbert. Fuck Egbert and all he stands for.  


"Asshole," you mutter under your breath.  


"Thanks for the distraction Mr. Strider," John says with a wink in Bro's direction.  


Your jaw drops as he returns the wink and drawls, "anytime Egderp. And like I keep telling you, just call me Bro already. It’s no big."  


John flushes a bit at that and apologizes but Bro shrugs it off before kicking you both out. He follows you to the kitchen where you grab some apple juice then up the stairs to your room.  


Admittedly, John Egbert is your best friend and you don't know how you would have survived the last two years without him. He's like, the perfect bud and your polar opposite. Where you're all irony and cool guy shades he's pretty nerdish and accepting of everyone and their quirks or faults. It's a relief really, to have someone you can just remove your shades in front of.   


As you pass a room John greets the occupant. Rose is sitting on her bed with a large book, studying one thing or another and taking notes.  


"Hi, Rose," Egbert chirps.  


"Hello, John," Rose replies with a soft smile.   


You roll your eyes and pull at your friend's hood. "Okay, you guys said hi, awesome. Can we go now?"  


"Aww, Dave, come on. Maybe Rose can help us with our project," Egbert says, steadying your arm. "She is a history buff after all. And her best friend is Kanaya! She is the queen of fashion!"

 

You aren’t about to tell him they aren’t exactly of the _best friends_ persuasion.  


"Dude, no," you say, pulling a little harder. Glancing at Rose, whose eyebrow raises in suspicion, you whisper, "look, I have to talk you about something."  


"If this is about your man crush on Cage, bro, I already know. You pretend not to care but deep down you actually want to be his apprentice, don't you?"  


You share a glance with Rose and look back at Egbert. His imagination is pretty ridiculous.  


"And again I say. Dude. No."  


John follows you down the hall afterward, saying a quick hello to Roxy as she bounces out of the bathroom in a towel. That girl has no boundaries.  
  
  
"So," you cut to the chase as you sit on your computer chair. Egbert flops onto your bed, tossing his bag on the floor. "Is your sister single?"

  
  
If John had a drink he would have spit it out all over the place. Luckily he did not so all he did was stare at you incredulously while stuttering. Finally, after you don't know how many minutes because you aren't nerdy or impatient enough to count, he sputters, "dude! You can't date my sister!"

  
  
And that's when you face palm and kick him in the shin. He winces and draws his legs onto the bed and out of range.

  
  
"Not for me you idiot," you groan. Jane is cool and all, and her cake is a mix of something that tastes like an angel's tear and a demon's kiss. Seriously. You would be fat as all hell if you didn't train with Bro. You know, in an ironic way. But she isn’t exactly your type.

  
  
"Oh... Does Mr-ahh-Bro like her?" he asks, finally drawing to a closer conclusion. "Cause if he does there's kind of a problem there."  


"Well he doesn't. And what problem?"

 

Fuck that. Bro can get any babe he wants. Maybe…  


"Well," John fidgets. "I'm not really supposed to say. That is, I'm not supposed to even know really. If Jane found out she'd blow a gasket and-"  


"Oh my god! Egbert, just spit it out already!"

 

You wonder if Rose was already at the door or if she was coming out at that moment to spy.  


"Kay, fine, but don't tell anyone. Especially not Jade. Promise?" John stares you down, uncharacteristically serious.  


"Yeah, whatever. Promise. What's this got to do with Jade anyway?" you're actually pretty damn curious now. Ironically curious.  


John slides his glance around the room. Like there's someone hiding in your closet or hidden cameras? What the hell... Actually you wouldn't put it past any of your housemates. They're pretty shady and always looking for some kind of blackmail.  


Finally John nods and inhales deeply, eyes closed. When he exhales he looks guilty and you almost tell him if it's such a big deal not to say anything but he lets it out in one breath. "Jane likes Jake."  


You stare at him behind your shades for a moment and he raises a brow at your non-reaction. Tired of the lingering silence you shrug and say "okay" before reaching under your desk for your bag.  


"That's it? Just okay?" he asks, shifting to sit at the edge of your bed, dangerously on the border of your reach.  


"Well, yeah. I was only wondering. Besides, I'm starting to think Bro is going to reproduce asexually. Like a worm. Or if you cut off an arm or a leg it's just gonna grow into another Bro. Like on that Hulk movie." You don't even know who this Jake dude is but John should know that.  


"I'm pretty sure that's the same thing," John says. You look at him and he continues. "I think it's called budding. You know, like a Hydra?"  


You just stare at him a while longer and shake your head. Nerd.  


"Pay attention in biology, Dave," he chuckles. "So why did you want to know about Jane's relationship status exactly?"  


"Curious," you say. You log into your computer and bring up a web browser.  


"Did you want to hook our siblings up or something? Oh my god Dave!" John straightens his back and his eyes widen. "We could be brothers!"  


"Perish the thought," you say with a smirk.  


"Don't be a dick, Dave. I'd be an awesome brother," John grumbles. He puffs his cheeks for added pouting effect.  


"Look," you sigh. "That isn't really the point. Can we just get to the project? Seriously, fashion? It's like our chick teacher really wants us dudes to fail. I think this is because I commented on those Scottish skirts. What the hell do I know about an old geezers taste in clothing and how it impacts us now?"  


When John doesn't agree with you or make any sound really you chance turning your gaze to him. You'll probably regret it. He's looking out the window, his face expressing deep concentration. Or constipation. He keeps tilting his head one way then the other, reminding you of a puppy. Or a little Japanese girl. Finally he turns to you and asks, "Do you want to set your brother up or something?" You regret it.  


You're stunned for a second, not even in an ironic way, but before you can convey your stupid idea you say, "Or something, Egbert. I'm trying to do this thing called a project that I have no idea how to go about? Cause, you know. Old peeps, weird clothing choices? Like, seriously, Buttafuoco? Hammer? Those pants? And really, French ladies? Don't you guys like to breathe? Or let your chicks eat?"  


"Do not diss the man responsible for Karkat's weird crab walk man, he loves that guys moves. You should have seen him the other night while we were watching MTV and they were playing old music videos. It was amazing. And what's wrong with France? Isn't that, like, the fashion capital of the world?"  


"Corsets, Egbert. Corsets," you groan as if he's supposed to know.  


"Now what in the world do you have against corsets?" John is clearly mystified.   


You roll your eyes and remove your shades, "health problems. All kinds of risks to the organs, dude. All the organs."  


"Stop watching all those _Pirates of the Caribbean_ movies, Dave. It isn't healthy for you. Too much of the Depp for your own good," John nods to himself.  


"First off, he is only good in that movie and it isn't even a good movie. Second, I was watching _Toddlers in Tiaras_ And some weird doctor talk show. Oz or Alex or something?"  


Silence spreads again as you both glare at one another. John is working something out in his head, you don't know if it's you insulting JD or that he now knows you watch TiT and wow what an unfortunate acronym. You just hope he doesn't hurt himself with all that thinking. Okay now he's tapping his fingers on the edge of your desk. Tapping his fingers and clicking his tongue. Tapping his fingers, clicking his tongue and side-eyeing you. Tapping his fingers, clicking his tongue, side-eyeing you and bouncing a bare foot on your spring mattress. Tapping his fingers, clicking his tongue, side-eyeing you, bouncing a bare foot on your spring mattress and-  


"Oh my god, John, cut that shit out and spit it out would you?" you almost yell. He sighs and looks out the window again.  


"I just realized something Dave. You haven't met Jake yet," John mutters. That's what's on his mind?  


"If that is what's bugging you I might just kick you out," you half joke. Half.  


"Don't get me wrong. I'm wondering why in the world I'm friends with you when you obviously have horrible taste in movies and television, but as usual I'm just gonna blow past that and examine a different angle of this conversation." He pauses to gather his thoughts. You let him, totally not thinking about how you have to get Bro back for watching the last episode of _Here Comes Honey Boo Boo_ without you.  


"So, Dave. This sudden fascination with your brother’s love life. Where did it come from?" he asks. Ooh wow. Doc Egbert is in the house.   


Lucky.   


Fucking.   


You.  


"I don't care about that shit, man. He can do whatever he wants," you deny with the utmost denial.  


"Please, Dave. All the evidence leads to this conclusion. I have concluded. It is of the conclusive manner. Spill the beans." Oh joy. You got Detective Egbert as a two-for-one deal. You must reiterate.  


Lucky.  


Mother.  


Fucking.  


You.  


"Not that it's my business," it really isn't, "but I've never seen your brother with anyone. I always just assumed he and Roxy were-"  


"Eww dude, no. She's like a sister to him. Us. I guess." You really hadn't given the Strider-Lalonde dynamic much of a thought. Not about to now. "Now can we get back to this dumb school assignment?"  


"In a minute, I am of the concluding nature."  


What even?  


"So I think we should totally check out some fine, attractive, age-appropriate and not currently crushing on a fella already, lass for your brother." John nods. Apparently this is his conclusion.  


"No." You turn back to your computer and find Jade logged into pesterChum. She's supposedly supposed to be heading over because she's also working on this project with you both.  


"Yes, Dave. So much yes. We're adorable and we can go around saying stuff like, date my brother please, and the ladies will totes dig it."  


"Until they meet him and find out just how much of a huge nerdy asshole he is. And how socially inept he is and how he can ramble for days about public tent pitching," you say. You shut your computer because obviously John is not going to listen to reason.  


"What's his type anyway? Is he into ladies with big breasts? Small ones? Brunettes? Blondes? Redheads? Japanese girls? He seems like he'd be into a shy little Japanese girl who is totally nerdalicious. And can cosplay. Cosplay the right way."  


You are honestly dumbstruck. No words, comebacks, quips or otherwise, make way to your brain. You haven't even fully weeded through all that before he's started up again.  


"Or perhaps he's of the male persuasion? In which case that Rufioh guy seems like he could be your brother's type. Actually, I don't really know much of the older people in this town aside from the teachers and relatives of our friends."  


Your brain has shut off. You are brain dead. John is rambling on and you can't focus. You catch one of the tangents erupting from his leaking protein chute and you wish you hadn't.  


"Or maybe Mr. Strider is a bottom and-"  


"Oh my god, why are you so focused on this right now?" you almost yell again.  


"No need to be upset, Dave. I was only trying to help."  


"By traumatizing me? You are the worst best friend ever! I will never be able to not imagine wheels' big bro pounding on my bro now! Thank you so much for that, I had no idea I needed it until I was blessed with these mind fuckingly blowing thoughts of my brothers non-existent sexual orientation!"  


You breathe deeply, trying and succeeding to calm yourself. Slowly.  


"Done with your tantrum?" John asks, amused. "Diaper baby."  


You glare.  


"I'm only throwing all this out there because you've been acting weird since third period. I wasn't going to ask you because I figured if you wanted to tell me you would, or you'd talk to Doctor Rose," John says while patting your back once and drawing his hand away. "I pretty much worked it out while we were talking and I just started rolling with it."  


Rolling your eyes you ruffle John's hair and lean back in your chair. You could tell John. That is a thing you could totally do. He's never spread any of your secrets before that you're aware of. And he was really hesitant about Jane's crush. He's also never told you anyone else’s secrets before that day. Do people tell John things? You wouldn't doubt it. That goofy smile draws everyone to him. He's probably had numerous confession times on the pile of autumn leaves he likes to rake up and throw himself on cause hello autumn in this town and John is weird and does stuff like that.  


Really, what are the downsides? You finally get to let everything off your chest, might feel relieved? Woah big downer. Well, you guess it couldn't hurt. You trust John. Maybe not with your life because he can't even hold a damn sword correctly, but yeah. Excluding harsh torture via your fangirls, which you don't have, nope, John wouldn't tell anyone. Yeah, okay, you can so do that. You'll probs need some tissue, for John not you, and your throat will for defs be sore since you have never really spoken without pause for a long period of time, but that's what aj is for you suppose.  


When you open your mouth to speak, relaxing at the sight of your best bro's smile there's a knock at the door and instead of a life story you release a quiet, "fuck," instead.


	2. ==> Be Dirk Fucking Strider.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Striders VS English GO!!!
> 
> Aka Striders are awkward as fuck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh gosh. I don't know. this chapter developed itself into something awkward.

Tch. Fuck that noise. You are too busy being Dave “Cool-kid” Strider.

 

"Don't worry, Dave. We can talk later," John whispers and follows up with a loud "come in!"

 

Jade opens the door and skips in, a bright smile on her face as she greets you both. Rose gracefully follows after her. She raises a brow at you and you decide to put your shades back on. Part of the reason you wear them is because you've been told on multiple occasions you have honest eyes. Rose just loves to stare into people's eyes while talking to them. Or listening you correct yourself. And fuck if you'd make it easy for her to read you. 

 

"Dave could you come downstairs for a bit?" Jade asks. She seems so earnest you can't exactly deny her request. You shrug and ask why and she pulls you by the crook of your elbow. "Well, if you answered any of my pestering you'd know."

 

"Well excuse me. I had no idea I had become Mr. Harley. Please dear, may I spend a night out with the boys? Is bowling acceptable? Too racey? But we joined a league and everything. What about a quiet night-"

 

"Dave, just shush, okay? No Strider-sass, please. This is important," Jade chides. She rolls her eyes and is leading you downstairs now, John and Rose following diligently. You hear voices from the living room. Roxy's and a male voice you don't recognize. You halt in place and pull your arm out of Jade's grip. She turns to you, brow raised in a silent question.

 

"Okay, who is that?" you ask suspiciously. If there is one thing you never are it is ill prepared. You are not going to just flounce through the door to come face to face with an axe murder or something. Though you suppose Roxy wouldn't be chatting and laughing with an axe murderer in the next room. Well, actually, she might. It's Roxy.

 

"That accent," John is practically bouncing. "Is that-?"

 

"Heck yes!" Jade whispers cheerfully so the occupants in the next room can't hear. 

 

John's arms flail a bit before he runs out on you. Abandoned. Left alone, stranded with the girls. You shiver. Not safe. Must think up strategy.

 

"So," Jade begins, her tone impatient and her sentences quick. "My grandfather died two weeks ago, which you already know," her voice catches and you pretend not to notice. "And I've been staying with Uncle John and, well, John. Jake is my uncle. Long story short, he's moving into our old house and becoming my new guardian and wants to meet the famous Striders I keep telling him about. And he's just flown in and doesn't really take no for an answer. Also he’s a little slow and oblivious so don’t use too many quips around him."

 

You nod. You don't really get why the guy doesn't go home and sleep or something. Bro never grilled your friends. Well not until Egbert but even then it was only to mess with the four eyed dork. Bro trusts your judgment when it comes to people. Then again... you've never really had friends. Just... people. People kinda just around you. Still, the guy is already a douche in your book. Doesn't call ahead? Just barges in?

 

"Oh emm gosh Jakey, m'so glad you called!" Roxy squeals.

 

Okay maybe not.

 

"S'been like, four years! An yah barely call! Shame on you, Jakey," she scolds teasingly and giggles.

 

When jade pulls you into the room you notice one feature that stands out above all else. He looks just like John. What. The. Literal. Fuck.

 

He's taller, which makes sense since he's Jade's uncle or whatever, and tan with green eyes. Aside from that they have the same messy, dark hair, same buck teeth that seems to run in the family, same exact glasses, and when they both laugh at something they snort at exactly the same time, inhale at the same time, exhale and sigh in unison. It's fucking freaky.

 

Jade skips over to the older John doppelgänger and pokes his cheek. He turns his eyes to her and listens attentively with an adoring smile.

 

"Jake, this is Dave, the friend I've been telling you about," she says with excitement.

 

Jake looks at you, taking your appearance in you assume. You can't tell if he's impressed or underwhelmed but he stands from the couch where you realize he's been sitting between Roxy and John, steps around the coffee table full of ironic Gamebros, wires, shitty swords and one of Bro's smuppets. You think the blue abomination is named John. When he stops in front of you he holds out his hand and the smile seems plastered to his face.

 

What's this shit? Who the fuck shakes hands anymore? Seriously? It's been thirty seconds, thirty-one seconds, thirty-two seconds, thirty-three seconds. Okay this guy needs to wipe that smile off his dumb John-wannabe face and get a clue. Because Striders. Don't. Shake.

 

Jade sighs and elbows you in the side and you respond with an almost inaudible grunt. Almost.

 

"Sorry, Jake," Egbert cuts in, smiling his cheerful Egbert smile. "Striders don't shake."

 

Yes. Egbert is catching on. Hmm maybe he knows too much.

 

"Oh, I see. That's quite alright," Johnabbe, yes that is what you are calling him because John and wannabe and yes you are just that clever, says. His accent is thick and painfully obvious. You wonder if it's fake. Then you recall his last name is English. Man can he get any lamer?

 

Oh shit, he's looking at you. You totally spaced out. He's expecting you to answer. Quick! Say something awesome and clever!

 

"Uhh what?" 

 

Ohh yeah, that was totally clever Strider. Like, on a scale of one to apple juice that was definitely lemons. Because lemons are sour and suck. Like your attention span. Now you want more apple juice.

 

"He's in the garage," Roxy says with a snort. Sometimes you think Roxy is even more of a sly fox than Rose. Maybe you two should have a talk later.

 

Wait, the garage? Shit.

 

"Thank you, fabulous Miss Lalonde," he says and honest to god he winks at her. Soooo cheesy. The guy is a ham. "I should definitely introduce myself and thank him for helping to look after Jadey."

 

Jade blushes at the nickname and swats her uncle in the shoulder before he saunters away. Shit... Shit. Shit. Shit. He said he was going to the garage? Bro is gonna be pissed for being disturbed. Man... Maybe you should watch. Make some popcorn. Get some gushers. To throw at the dweeb, not to eat because eww.

 

Before you can follow Roxy is pulling you by the back of your collar and forcing you to take a seat in an armchair.

 

"Lil Stri," she hums with a menacing smirk and darkened features. "Les us five have a lil talk. Mmkay?"

 

You gulp.

 

Lalondes' and their scary expressions.

 

===> Now you are D-Stri. For serious. No. Stop doubting. You are D-fucking-Stri, okay? Someone has trust issues.

 

Seriously though, who the fuck else would you be? No one is as sugoi as you. You are the king of all things sugoi and kawaii. Like this fucking car Gramps Harley brought in about two months before he died. This mother fucking 1973 pontiac. Usually you'd wonder why an old bat in a small town would have such a sweet ride but you've known Gramps for as long as you've been living in the too-small town and as far as you're concerned he is a bad ass. He definitely saw John Wayne fuck up in this car. And judging by the scratches, dents, and filth that used to shit up the car he's had his own adventures once or twice. In any case, it is also sugoi and it is all thanks to you.

 

Now the car looks brand new. Instead of its previous dark green, almost black, it's a few shades lighter and settled into a forest green due to its recent paint job. All the damages have been worked the fuck out and you've recently finished up the lame ass skull on the driver's side door. Shitty skulls didn't really seem like Gramps’ thing but whatever. He said it was a gift for someone. You don’t remember who but you have the name written down-uhh-somewhere. A request is a request, right? But it's done, and even if the skull is stupid and Gramps isn't alive to see it you feel like you've done good work. Like he'd be proud or something.

 

Instead of dwelling on thoughts about the only real male role model you've ever had you switch to one of your many other projects, blindly grabbing something random and shrugging when you have the control panel for Jane’s birthday present. Squarewave makes a few sounds off in the corner. You hear him and the door opening when your playlist resets itself.

 

"Dave, go away. I'm busy building you a new brother," you grumble through the screwdriver lodged in your mouth. You're rewiring the system with your hands, which isn't exactly the wisest idea but hey. When did you ever claim to be wise? Other than all the time that is.

 

You hear the door close and assume you're now alone. The song playing is awful. Something the kid must have slipped in to piss you off. Little shit wants to go at it. Egbert style. Pranks galore. He's in for a world of hurt. Metaphorical hurt. 

 

Been a while since you two messed around. Gotta make sure you're careful though. Can't let Lalonde square get caught in the crossfires. Last thing you need is your only friend and her sister ending up in a hospital. Or worse...

 

A horizontally reclined chair-couch hybrid. What the fuck are those called?

 

"Fucking shit, Dave!" you exclaim in surprise, the flathead dropping and rolling away on the floor. You feel breathing at the back of your neck and slap your hand over the spot. "I thought I told you to beat it you little - uhh - you ain’t Dave."

 

Instead of the little blonde shit there is... umm... some... guy... Some guy you've never seen.

 

Okay, so you don't make it a habit of checking out every guy that crosses your path but this dude is pretty damn hard not to observe. His smile is bright and too white to ignore. God his general presence is overbearing and you kind of want to sock him one in the gut. Or face. Or do something else to his face. Because god he is fucking cute as hell with those bucked teeth and oh god why is he wearing shorts? He must be around your age, and yeah they are kind of loose but why the fuck is his shorts so short? Has he looked in a mirror? Does he know his thighs look incredible? Does he realize you want to put your head between them and have him squeeze, just a little, while you suck his co-

 

"Umm, I'm sorry for startling you," he says and clears his throat. Damn you have something for his throat. Oh, he also kinda has this accent. The fuck is it? Some kind of British twang? Australian? Well whatever he's talking again and you should probably be listening. "I'm Jake. Jake English."

 

"Yeah..." you just stare at him, glad he can't see your eyes through your work goggles. "Is that supposed to mean something to me?" Yes. Okay. Play it cool, Strider.

 

"Oh, I thought Jadey would have mentioned me," he frowns, stroking his chin with a worried expression. Fuck he's cute. Wait, Jade? "I'm her uncle. I've been traveling around the world for a while but it seems Jadey's grandfather, my father has passed away. So I've come to take care of Jade. Did you know him? Father that is."

 

God. You were just trying not to think about all that. Sure you have some awesome memories, but knowing you won't be seeing the rad old man makes it pretty damn difficult to deal. You ain't a sentimental guy. You didn't cry when dad left, when mom died, when Dave broke his arm after getting into a fight with a bunch of moronic kids. Know what you did when that shit happened? You took care of Dave. Took care of Dave. And then, oh shit, you took care of Dave some more. Given that last one you also had a little... chat... with those punk ass bitches. When Gramps died, you took care of Dave as usual. You took care of him, but the kid is smart and you both knew without saying anything out loud. He took care of you too.

 

Harley dying, that was some heavy shit. You don't want to dwell on his death, but he... he was a good guy. When you met him after Dave became friends with his grandkids you thought he was some lame ass old coot, talking about the good ol’ days and the war or whatever. But somewhere along the line you realized everything was true. He'd done all kinds of things you wanted to do. Travel, eat weird ass foreign food, pick fights with idiots, ride his motorcycle. His hog is soooo sweet you can't stand the irony of how sweet it is.

 

For some reason, you still can't fathom why, he seemed to like you just as much as you liked him. So yeah, it may have looked odd, a twenty-something your old badass and an eighty-something year old Englishman hanging around, but neither of you gave two flying fucks. His words, not yours. 

 

So yeah, half a year spent avoiding the public eye like the plague, staying cooped up in the garage and tinkering away. Then another year and a half creating some kind of familial bond. You don't bond with people. You are a brother, a shut in who avoids people your age because let's face it they're morons, and you are a one-night stand. People don't get to hang with you for long. Roxy is the only chick you have ever stayed friends with. She and Rose are your responsibility now. Your family. But no one else was supposed to claw their way into your lack of a heart.

 

So fucking excuse you if you don't want to talk or think about the guy. Excuse you if you don't want to look at his son, who happens to look just fucking like him. Just ignore the fact that it may appear that your goggles are fogging up. Because they are not.

 

"Uhh, mister Strider? Are you quite alright? It's been about five minutes and you haven't said a word." His brows are furrowed in worry and he's closer than before. You can feel the heat radiating from his body and it's distracting.

 

"Yeah, no big," except big because you are starting to zone out at crucial times now. Not just in the shower. "So you're Jade's uncle, huh? Where you been?"

 

Suffice it to say, you actually really care about all of Dave's friends, though you don't show it much. Jade is the sweetest kid, though when angered can be fierce. Women. When Gramps had been hospitalized Jade was a wreck. He'd been hunting and there was an accident. He didn't make it through the night. You drove her to the hospital yourself because she'd been sleeping over, but you didn't let Dave, Egbert or Rose come. She cried, wrapped up in your arms that night. Actually she used you as a tear catcher a lot after that. You don’t mind. His funeral was held a week later. Jade had been a zombie and had only recently started to fit back into her vivacious mold once more. 

And where the fuck was this douchebag? Traveling? You should probably stop grinding your teeth.

 

"Oh," he rubs the back of his neck. Seriously, just oh? "I would have been here much sooner-" likely story "but there was a huge hurricane warning where I was taking care of a friend of mine. Broke some bones on our trip, so when Roxy called and told me I tried as hard as I could to get here for the funeral. To be here for Jade. But I couldn't make it in time. I must seem so awful to you, don't I?"

 

Anger subsided. Damn. You kind of wanted to tear him a new one. Whatever.

 

"No. I get it. Whatever man," you say with a heavy sigh. You notice the screwdriver now that you actually need it and frown. It's rolled under the car, the one you don't want to think about. You really need to tighten this bolt on the robo bunny's head. Cause yes, his head is on your work desk. And that's where you like it.

 

English seems to notice your attention is not fully on him and offers to get it. When you tell him its fine he just says nonsense and doesn't mind. Well, you mind. Doesn't that count for anything? If Dave isn't allowed to touch your stuff what makes him think DEAR LORD IN HEAVEN.

 

All the protests leave your mind as it draws blank at the sight you are presented with. He-he must know what he's doing. Does he not know that his shorts ride up when he bends down like that? Oh god he's on his hands and knees, reaching under the car. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. Every muscle in your body tightens or twitches. Every. Single. One.

 

When he pulls the tool out and looks back at you, holding it nearly a foot away from his chest your mind goes to a dark place. A dark place indeed. It has been a long long time since it went there. God why does it have to go there now? God why is his ass so smackable? Are you panting? You think your panting. Nope, your jaw feels like its drilled closed. Good.

 

Damn. The fuck, Strider? How long has it been since you-oh. Oh shit you have a boner. It's been two years since you had sex, three months since you masturbated, and just the sight of a tight ass, muscled thighs and forest green eyes got you hard. So pathetic. 

 

You snatch the empty head from your desk and place it in your lap. A little too hard. Ow.

 

He stands, hands you the screwdriver, which you use to tighten a bolt that doesn't require attention and just continues to smile at you.

 

"Was there anything else you needed?" you ask with a raised brow. Not that he can see it.

 

"Oh! Well, I just," he pauses and scuffs the heel of his boot against the floor. "Well part of the reason I came was to meet the Striders. Jade and Roxy talk about you both quite a bit. I suppose I just wanted to see if you lot live up to the hype. And..."

 

"And what?" you prod when he hesitates and shoves his hands into the pocket of his green vest.

 

"And. Well," he pauses again and sighs. "I just-I wanted to thank you."

 

He has your undivided attention now.

 

"Thank me? You don't even know me."

 

"No, but the fair miss Lalonde vouched for you and I trust her judge of character. But I was talking more along the lines of Jade."

 

English turns his back on you and walks slowly over to the car. He takes his right hand out of his pocket and makes a move to touch the car. He rethinks it though and lowers his hand to his side.

 

"Jade," he lets out a low, reluctant chuckle. "Jade speaks very highly of you, Strider. She likes being here, with all of you. She told me how well you've been caring for her since... Well anyway I simply came to meet and thank you for caring for my niece in my place. I should have been here sooner, I know, and it kills me that I wasn't here for her."

 

He turns back to you, a painful smile on his face and says with the most broken voice you've ever heard, "I missed out on a lot. I don't intend to do so any longer."

 

"Well. Good for you then," you mutter. You aren't exactly sure what to say. Should you comfort him? You aren't really good with soothing people, Dave can attest to that.

 

"My apologies, I've made things awkward," English mumbles. He wipes a tear away from his cheek and you find yourself tempted to lick it away and kiss him until he isn't crying any longer. "Golly, it just won't stop."

 

You refrain from acting out you ridiculous fantasy and stand up. You place bunny head in its previous space and walk over to the weeping adult. His face is being smothered by his hands, shoulders shaking and sobs muffled by his palms. It doesn't break your heart. You swear. As stated beforehand you do not deal well with emotional people, so the only thing you can think of is to place your hand on his shoulder and rub it with a bit of force, hopefully not too much.

 

"It's, uhh, fine. Sometimes you just gotta let it out," or so you've heard.

 

Before you know what's happening he's resting his forehead on your shoulder. Okay, uncomfortable territory, but you now know that it runs in the Harley-English-Egbert-Crocker clan. Gramps and Jade were touchy feely as well. John too. Not so much Jane, but she has her moments.

 

So. You just. Stroke his back or something? Yeah, that seems like an okay thing for people to do. They do it in movies and books. You can do it.

 

...

 

You can do it...

 

Just put your hand on his back, Strider. This IS a thing you can do.

 

Your body is stiff, back straight while your digits twitch as they hover just out of reach of contact. He's crying, you have to do something. Anything. Just... Yeah okay a few more centimeters... There. Your hand has now made physical contact with another being. Now rub, yes just like that, up and down. Okay. Doing good. You can do this. Judging by the breaths he's taking he's calming down. You have now gained a level from your stressful endeavor.

 

"M-my apologies, Strider," he says with embarrassment. His face is red and damp and snotty. It's endearing, you think, and you pat his head. His hair is soft but you don't let your hand rest there any longer. 

 

Man, dealing with people sure is difficult. No wonder you've resisted for so long.

 

You stay like that for a while, until he's calmed down completely. You offer him a clean rag from the folded pile beside the door and he takes it, cleaning his face of the emotional mess he's made.

 

You have an awkward goodbye and he leaves.

 

You for serious do not know what the flying shit just happened.


End file.
